Shotgun (2)
“From now on, we’re going to build a tower.”
She blinked at me, clearly not grasping what I meant. Then, as if struck by some grand epiphany, she smacked her fist into her palm.
“Aha! As expected of Cadet Flint! You’re planning to buy up a bunch of slaves, lock ’em in the tower, and make ’em hand-carve the lead shot, right? Whew, that’s way cheaper than fancy alchemy for sure. Minus the labor costs, it’s basically free!”
“……”
I stared at Pistia, at a complete loss for words. The empire’s genius who’d earned her PhD at twenty, and this was her takeaway? Straight-up labor exploitation? Was this the world’s average moral compass, or was she just another efficiency-obsessed engineer?
The empire’s one scary place. For real.
Not that I was about to start some human rights crusade, mind you. I just trusted machines way more than people—they didn’t whine or screw up.
“Professor.”
“Yes! I know a great slave market. If we go for the ones who can’t use their legs, the cost-performance ratio would be……”
I cut her off before she could whip out a notepad like some demon scribe. Watching her rattle off brutal efficiency with that innocent smile was starting to make me question who the modern transplant really was.
“No, we’re not buying slaves.”
“Huh? For real? But that’s the most efficient option……”
“People need food, sleep, and worst of all, they make mistakes. That’s not the kind of efficiency I’m talking about.”
I locked eyes with her and stated it firmly.
“Zero margin for error. The exact same output, twenty-four-seven. And to achieve that, we’ll use the tower itself as the mechanism.”
“Use the structure? You mean the tower’s gonna forge the lead on its own? Without anyone inside, who’s making the balls?”
“I told you. There’s this super cheap, hyper-efficient guy.”
I tossed a lead ball lightly into the air from my palm and snatched it back with a flick. Then I grinned.
“Gravity. Doesn’t take a salary, doesn’t need days off.”
“Gravity?”
Pistia tilted her head, still lost. I decided to give her genius brain a moment to process the process revolution this simple physics law would unleash.
“It’s called a Shot Tower. We’re gonna build a tower where ‘lead rain’ falls.”
“Rain?”
“We melt the lead and pour it through a sieve with tiny holes at the top of the tall tower.”
“Just… drop it?”
“Yep. Just drop it. As the lead droplets free-fall for tens of meters, they naturally form spheres.”
Her eyes widened. I could see the trajectory simulations firing off in that brilliant mind of hers.
“Oh…… Not mana fixing the shape, but surface tension rounding them out mid-fall?”
“Exactly. And when those perfectly round lead balls splash into the cooling water we’ve prepped at the bottom……”
I snapped my fingers for emphasis.
“They solidify into flawless shot. A system pumping out tens of thousands of precision balls without a speck of mana. What do you think? Cheap and efficient enough to call it that?”
“……”
Pistia went silent, like she’d taken a brick to the head. For someone who’d lived her life boxed in by magitech, the idea of slotting nature’s laws into the production line like spare parts was a total paradigm shift.
“……Flint, you’ve basically hired the laws of nature as your artisan. Eliminating any room for magic altogether.”
Her voice trembled faintly—a scholar’s thrill at a new horizon.
“Told ya. No salary, no days off.”
I smirked back just as a crisp knock echoed from beyond the lab door. Knock knock.
“Lord Flint, it’s Cedric.”
A low, trustworthy voice. Countess Laurie’s right-hand man—the guy I’d looped in ahead of time for this op.
“Come in.”
The door opened, and Cedric stepped inside in his impeccable uniform. He didn’t bat an eye at the cluttered blueprints, Pistia’s soot-streaked face, or my own disheveled state. Just a polite bow to me.
“The personnel and materials you requested are waiting at the academy gates. Shall we commence construction immediately?”
I hadn’t expected him to round up construction-ready mages this fast. Laurie sis is the real deal. Solid as rock.
“W-Wait a sec!! You’re not seriously planning to raise that tower right now, are you?”
“Why not? The sooner, the better.”
“B-But this is construction! Building on academy grounds needs the dean’s approval, board sanction……”
“Oh, that. Already got it.”
“Huh? What? Approval? I’m the engineering department head and I heard nothing! The dean wouldn’t greenlight it that easily…… Hell, when did you even……”
“While you were framing parts, facedown on the desk snoring away, I stepped out, ordered the crew from Gos Workshop, and got the dean’s stamp. Told her it was essential for the revolver’s follow-up project. She approved without a peep.”
“……”
Pistia gaped, dumbfounded. Couldn’t wrap her head around our usually bureaucratic, stickler dean folding so quick at “revolver sequel.”
I nodded to Cedric, ignoring her frozen shock.
“Let’s get it done. Skeleton frame up by end of day. Professor, quit spacing out and prep the lead melt.”
“Uh…… Wha? Hold on! I’m not mentally ready yet……!”
Her panicked yelp faded behind me as the rumble of massive materials shifting echoed from the engineering department’s rear clearing.
While the mages poured mana into prefab-assembling the tower like magic IKEA, Pistia and I prepped the key fixtures for the top and bottom.
It wasn’t just melting lead. We needed a crucible to hold it at steady liquid temp, and most crucially, a standardized sieve plate. Hole size dictated the shot gauge.
“Flint, the bottom cooling tank’s ready! Designed it to swirl the water and funnel the cooled balls to one spot—automatic collection worthy, right?”
Pistia beamed, pointing proudly with soot smudged on her nose. Once the dropped balls solidified in the water, currents would sweep them into a collector. Genius lived up to the name. I’d barely sketched the principle, and she’d already bootstrapped modern automation basics.
Slurp.
Is this what it feels like to have a star grad student? No wonder everyone’s so cutthroat poaching talent.
Teach one thing, get ten—no, a hundred—back. A mind that could transplant my 21st-century factory dreams into this medieval fantasy world so seamlessly.
“U-Um, Flint? Did I mess up? Your eyes are scary…… S-Sorry! Tell me what to fix!”
My gaze must’ve turned predatory without me noticing. She flinched back, trembling like prey sensing a predator.
I swallowed hard, dialing back the greed in my eyes.
“No, you did too good. I was just… moved.”
“R-Really? Felt like you were gonna steal my soul or something……”
She huffed, rubbing her chest. But sorry, my resolve only hardened. No way I’d let talent like this slip away. Once the shotgun was done, time for bigger production lines.
Days later, a massive tower loomed over the engineering clearing. I was reminded anew of the true terror of efficiency in this medieval fantasy world.
The laborers from Gos Workshop, courtesy of Laurie sis, were straight-up “human machines.” They ran 24-hour shifts, crashing only for bare-minimum survival, piling up the tower like maniacs. Countess Laurie’s wild incentive—extra gold per man per day ahead of the one-month schedule—lit the fuse.
Money was the ultimate power here, too. Dopamine via bonus made fatigue a luxury.
Add magic synergy: float spells to lift stone loads, hardening spells to seal joints in seconds. Mages swarming each step, snapping it together like prefab furniture. Spectacular.
Even nobles bend for cash, huh.
Should’ve slacked off myself.
I’d been grinding lead balls myself fearing delays, but their pace made my efforts pointless. 21st-century engineer thoroughness? Overkill against fantasy capital and magic.
“Flint! Ready to pour! Hurry, hurry!”
Pistia bounced beside me, voice brimming with anticipation. Days of nonstop work left her hair a mess, face caked in grime like a beggar—but her eyes sparkled brighter than any gem.
In my protective gear, I peered into the crucible’s glowing molten lead. Then tilted it slow.
Silver liquid sloshed out, spilling onto the perforated drip plate. Lead streamed through the tiny holes, budding into droplets in an instant.
Shwaaaa!
Magnificent. Silver droplets plunged straight down, gravity-pulled. Surface tension sculpted them into perfect spheres mid-drop.
Pistia gripped the railing, jaw dropping.
“Oh…… It’s really raining. Silver rain, shining……”
Beautiful, yet chilling. Far below, steam rose from the base tank with a sharp hiss.
Tssshiiiik!
I descended with her. Round balls piled neatly in the auto-collector.
“……Perfect.”
I plucked a wet one with gloved fingers. Near-uniform size, machine-smoothed spheres without a flaw.
Materials secured. All that remained: bundling these into shells for live ammo.